The Fourth Chair
By: Olivia
Chapter 1
"Truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long."-Shakespeare
Frank continued walking towards the door back inside the building. Tim trailed further and further behind. Frank needed time to think, to process, all that Tim had confessed to him. A part of him hated Tim for putting this weight upon his shoulders. He hated Tim for killing Luke Ryland. Not that he cared about Ryland. Ryland was a worthless scum from all that Frank knew about the man. But Tim should have never compromised himself in this way.
Then Frank realized just how much anguish was mixed up with his anger. Here he was carrying Tim's burden for what, fifteen minutes? Tim had been carrying it for months. His friend had fallen and fallen hard. Frank should have seen that something was wrong when he first saw Tim. It had been over a year since he had seen Tim, but this was his partner. Tim was right. Frank didn't know him. People change. And yet Tim hadn't changed. He was still the same sensitive guy that Frank had known. This murder bothered Tim.
And out of every person in Tim's life, he chose Frank to confess to. When he thought about it, it really was not a surprise. The only surprise here was that after so long of trying to keep Tim at a distance, to keep him away, Tim still turned to Frank for help. Maybe deep down Tim believed that Frank cared about him. Six years of being partnered together had to count for something right? Or maybe Tim just couldn't accept that Frank didn't care. Either way, Tim trailed after Frank liked a wounded dog trailing after its master. Dog-a man's best friend.
Frank pulled Tim's badge out of his pocket and studied it for a moment. He felt the metal and leather backing. Tim could turn in his badge as he had in fact done. Maybe this was all for the best for Tim. Tim had chosen to be a detective but maybe it was not meant to be. His problem was always that he cared too much about the victims. He was too sensitive and didn't have that professional distance that one needed on a job like this. Tim let the dead haunt him for justice. When he fell short of his task, he blamed himself. He didn't understand how sometimes solving murderers was more a matter of luck than of skill. If the evidence wasn't there, it wasn't there. Tim wanted to save the world and it had all led to this. If Tim was guilty of anything it was of feeling too much. You can't convict a man of that. Frank wasn't about to. Murder was murder plain and simple. But this was Tim, his partner, they were talking about. The thought of Tim, a cop, in prison made Frank sick to his stomach. He couldn't turn him in. He would carry Tim's secret.
At the sound of the hammer of a gun being cocked back, Frank felt the cold metal of Tim's badge course through his veins.
No, God, no, Frank pleaded silently. I should have taken the gun away.
Frank spun. With only a second he took in the scene. Tim, tears coursing silently down his face, started to bring the gun up to his own face. Frank threw himself at Tim. Frank was still trying to wrestle the gun from Tim's hand when the sound of a single gunshot pierced the still October night air.
By: Olivia
Chapter 1
"Truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long."-Shakespeare
Frank continued walking towards the door back inside the building. Tim trailed further and further behind. Frank needed time to think, to process, all that Tim had confessed to him. A part of him hated Tim for putting this weight upon his shoulders. He hated Tim for killing Luke Ryland. Not that he cared about Ryland. Ryland was a worthless scum from all that Frank knew about the man. But Tim should have never compromised himself in this way.
Then Frank realized just how much anguish was mixed up with his anger. Here he was carrying Tim's burden for what, fifteen minutes? Tim had been carrying it for months. His friend had fallen and fallen hard. Frank should have seen that something was wrong when he first saw Tim. It had been over a year since he had seen Tim, but this was his partner. Tim was right. Frank didn't know him. People change. And yet Tim hadn't changed. He was still the same sensitive guy that Frank had known. This murder bothered Tim.
And out of every person in Tim's life, he chose Frank to confess to. When he thought about it, it really was not a surprise. The only surprise here was that after so long of trying to keep Tim at a distance, to keep him away, Tim still turned to Frank for help. Maybe deep down Tim believed that Frank cared about him. Six years of being partnered together had to count for something right? Or maybe Tim just couldn't accept that Frank didn't care. Either way, Tim trailed after Frank liked a wounded dog trailing after its master. Dog-a man's best friend.
Frank pulled Tim's badge out of his pocket and studied it for a moment. He felt the metal and leather backing. Tim could turn in his badge as he had in fact done. Maybe this was all for the best for Tim. Tim had chosen to be a detective but maybe it was not meant to be. His problem was always that he cared too much about the victims. He was too sensitive and didn't have that professional distance that one needed on a job like this. Tim let the dead haunt him for justice. When he fell short of his task, he blamed himself. He didn't understand how sometimes solving murderers was more a matter of luck than of skill. If the evidence wasn't there, it wasn't there. Tim wanted to save the world and it had all led to this. If Tim was guilty of anything it was of feeling too much. You can't convict a man of that. Frank wasn't about to. Murder was murder plain and simple. But this was Tim, his partner, they were talking about. The thought of Tim, a cop, in prison made Frank sick to his stomach. He couldn't turn him in. He would carry Tim's secret.
At the sound of the hammer of a gun being cocked back, Frank felt the cold metal of Tim's badge course through his veins.
No, God, no, Frank pleaded silently. I should have taken the gun away.
Frank spun. With only a second he took in the scene. Tim, tears coursing silently down his face, started to bring the gun up to his own face. Frank threw himself at Tim. Frank was still trying to wrestle the gun from Tim's hand when the sound of a single gunshot pierced the still October night air.